(Mostly) Dramione One-shots
by TheLawofMurphy
Summary: Just some random drabble that comes from my mind. I really use it more as a writing exercise for writers block and characterization, but I find some people may enjoy it. It's mostly Dramione, though there may be more characters. It's all based on songs from my Spotify. There'll probably be poetry and quotes as well. I enjoy it. I hope you will too. Rated T because of some language.
1. Flesh and Bones

**Alright, so I've been toying with this idea for quite a while now, but just decided to go through with this little writing exercise. Basically, it's a bunch of one-shot song-fics. I have these playlists that I listen to on Spotify, and every now and then my mind just thinks "Hey, this would be a good song for so-and-so". 90% of the time, it will be something Dramione related, although occasionally other characters will slip in here. This isn't something that will be updated on a schedule, it isn't something that has a plot, hell, it may not even follow the same story lien through out. It may contradict itself many a time, who knows? I certainly don't. It's just something I'm going to do to improve my characterization skills for the story I'm working on and if I get writers block. An exercise to get the brain juices flowing, really. I hope you guys enjoy it though!**

* * *

Draco stormed into his room and threw himself down onto his bed in frustration. He had just had another infuriating encounter with Granger and needed desperately to cool down a little bit. Sighing, he laid back against the bedpost. He soon began to slip into a rather dark place.

-O-

He realized once again, how utterly alone in this world he was. Sure, he had friends, but it's not like he had anyone he could really talk to. Not that he would if he did. Nott and Zabini were his best mates, and they barely even knew him. _It's my fault, I guess_, he thought, _I could have let them in within the past five years, but I never did. Now I'm alone in my bedroom with no one to talk to. _He threw up his tightly guarded walls, never letting anyone in. Never letting anyone knowing . Anytime someone did attempt to talk to this cold, distant man, he just ignored them or walked off. Unless it was Granger. She was different.

With that thought, he pulled up the sleeve on his left arm and looked at the wretched mark he had been forced to take. There was a war looming overhead, and he felt as if the weight of it was on his shoulders. He couldn't even befriend the one person he actually wanted so desperately to talk to. _She wouldn't give me the time of day now. I'm just a filthy Death Eater_, he thought. _She would never want to talk to me. She's too good for that. Too good for me. _

He longed to be able to talk to her. Sure, she was a mudblood and he was always taught to despise them.. but she was different. She was intelligent, more so than him. Probably one of the only people besides Nott and Zabini that could compete on his level of intellect.

So instead of pushing her away and ignoring her, he would insult her. He couldn't help himself, but he wanted so badly to talk to her. The only way he could was by insulting her. He cringed at that thought. She probably hated him for it.

_I'm a cold-hearted man_, he began to think. The only person he loved was his mother. He didn't, no, couldn't, let anyone in. He didn't want to lose them when it came down to time for the war. Because of this, he could feel his hatred for himself growing. Why couldn't he just tell Nott, or Zabini!? Why did it have to be the filthy mudblood that he adored the most? Fuck. He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow.

-O-

At this point in Draco's life, he couldn't stand himself. He was despicable. Not only did he insult most people, he also ignored all of his friends, pushed them away, was roped into this impending war, was branded as a Death Eater, and was set out to kill Dumbledore. Dumbledore, of all people! Probably one of the greatest wizards of this age, a wizard that everyone loves, and he had to kill him. A sixteen year old boy should not be given a task so huge. Not only that, but he has to figure out how to repair the shitty Vanishing Cabinet in order to do so. If he doesn't do this, he'll be murdered. Neither of those options were desirable.

That was another reason why he didn't dare try and talk to Hermione. If she could ever possibly ignore his Death Eater-ness, there would be no way she would forgive him once she figured out that he was the one who murdered Dumbledore. She would hate him with a fury that was known to no other. He couldn't bare that. He could barely stand her hatred towards him now. Hate, though, was still an extreme emotion. He would prefer her to feel something towards him rather than nothing, even if that something was hate.

He sighed again. This was all because of his stupid, prestigious, prejudiced family. Yeah, they were rich and that worked in his favor many a time. However, because of this he couldn't befriend Hermione. He didn't have a choice in his pureblood mentality. He didn't have a choice but to hate her. _It is a sweet plague that follows me_, he thought. He sometimes thought that maybe, if he had been born into a normal family, then he could have befriended Hermione and wouldn't have to be a Death Eater. They were pointless thoughts though.

-O-

Draco could feel his heart breaking more and more every day. Every time he said something horrible to Hermione, crack, there was another hairline fracture in his hardened- heart. Every time his father would slap him for not being good enough, crack. Everytime he thought about having to murder Dumbledore, crack. One day it would just fall apart. One day there would be more cracks than glass and it wouldn't be able to hold itself together anymore. It physically pained him, as well as emotionally.

Draco felt his breath hitch. _Fuck, I can't cry, I'm a big boy. I'm Draco Malfoy, and Malfoy's do not cry. _There was no point in arguing with himself. He felt the tears start to fall down his porcelain face. He could feel the his lungs giving out as his sobs grew bigger and bigger. He could feel the wetness of his pillow. He could feel a number of things, so how come he felt so numb?

He heard himself sob the word "Hermione" into the pillow, without really realizing it. His soul ached for her, without really knowing her.

-O-

Draco knew the war was inevitable. Voldemort was growing stronger with every single day, and he was ready to take over. He shuddered at that thought, a world where Voldemort reigned. It couldn't be a good thing, although several people he knew seemed to think it would be better. Either way, he thought, I'm going to be living in a hell.'

It was going to be a bloody war, he knew that. There would be multiple deaths, maybe even his. He was okay with that. That saddened him. The fact that he was okay with just dying in the war was seriously more depressing to him than anything else. He used to think so highly of himself, and over the last five years, that had been utterly destroyed.

Despite all of the horrors that will be brought by the war though, all he could hope was the Hermione would be okay. Of course she'll be okay, she's a part of the Golden Trio, and as long as they manage to beat Voldemort, she'll be okay. She has to be okay. He didn't know what he would do if she ended up killed in battle. If he lived and she didn't, he wouldn't be able to stand it. She deserves to survive this far more than he does. She has a purpose, a reason, he simply didn't. Not a good purpose and reason, anyway.

-O-

Draco began to think, again, of all the horrible things he's said and done to Hermione over the past years. He wanted to apologize to her for all of it. To clear their slate before it was broken beyond repair. He knew he never would be able to, though. He wouldn't even know where to begin. She was muggle-born, muddy, a mudblood. He was a pureblood, clean, prestigious. He had been taught since birth that he was to shun her kind.

I have no thought's of my own, he realized. They were all replicates of his parents, of societies.. Of Voldemorts. It was as if he had no eyes of his own, so he had no perspective on the world.

In his unimportant opinion, Hermione was beautiful and perfectly imperfect. She wasn't a mudblood that he had grown to hate, she was someone who deserved to be loved and cherished and held to the highest standard. she was someone who should be treated with pureblood standards.

She was someone that was untouchable by the likes of him.

-O-

Draco turned back onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He felt empty, drained, void of thought. It was only for a second, though, before the hurt and shame came back to him. It was as if his pain was an ocean, crashing and receding on the shore to the steady rhythm of the moon and sun. He was deeply hurt by the thought of never being able to be with Hermione. Even after the war, if they were both to survive, he would be hated and she would be loved. She could have any guy she wanted, and it would never be him. She would probably spit on him just like the rest of the wizarding world would. _"Looking up at the stars, I know quite well, That, for all they care, I can go to hell.."_ He muttered into his pillow. He would probably have to move to muggle London just out of shame. All he knew was the he loved Hermione Granger. He wished she felt the same.

-O-

He was back to feeling alone. It was like a cycle. Alone, self-loathing, tears, hate for family and the war, want for Hermione, alone. It was never ending.

He loved and he was alone.

After spending another good hour arguing, torturing, and all-around hating himself, he finally just fell asleep, wishing that Dear Hermione Granger was in his arms instead of his pillow.

* * *

**_EDIT 4/10/15_: I had to remove the lyrics, unfortunately, because I never saw that part of the terms and agreement and I see other people do it all the time so I figured it was cool. I'm also real dumb, though, cause I should know to never do what other people do just because you think it'll be okay. However, if you listen to the song, the first verse would match up with paragraphs 2-5, second verse would match up with paragraphs 6-8, chorus matches up with lines 9-11, verse three lines up with paragraphs 12-14, verse four goes with paragraphs 15-18, and the last section of paragraphs would match up with the outro. I hope you guys still enjoy it!**

**First of all, the song throughout this chapter is called Flesh and Bones by Keaton Henson, if you haven't heard of it, check it out! It's pretty great.**

**The quote is a couple lines from the poem The More Loving One by W. H. Auden. _"Looking up at the stars, I know quite well, / That, for all they care, I can go to hell, / But on Earth indifference is the least, / we have to dread from man or beast."_ \- that's the stanza it's from.**

**Secondly, as always, if you find that there are any grammatical errors, or spelling errors, please point it out to me, that would be greatly appreciated. Also, feel free to give criticism, just no flames. I'm also open to just "Hey, this was a really good chapter!" But you know, it's just whatever. Anyway I hope you sleep well tonight/have a good day today! I'm going to bed for now. **


	2. City of Stars

**AN: Finally had inspiration to post another Song-fic. Don't worry, there are no song lyrics. Just wrote this with a song in mind. **  
**This chapter's song is Ryan Gosling's solo version of City of Stars from La La Land, one of my favorite musicals. **

* * *

"Shit."

Draco dropped the keys to the Astronomy Tower, and the loud clink that it made against the stone ground echoed down the corridor. The Astronomy Tower was Draco's favorite place to think at night, but he would be in heaps of trouble if anyone were to find out about his little hiding place. He needed this place in order to unwind after a long day. Especially when his worries and insomnia kept him up late at night.

Draco crouched to the ground, searching blindly for the keys in the dark. He skimmed his hands over the ground until he finally met the cool metal of the key beneath his hands. His skin was so place that he was almost glowing against the dark background. This created a chilling atmosphere that suddenly made Draco feel on guard.

He instantly shook those thoughts out of his head. He was just paranoid. In fact, he found that he was constantly paranoid nowadays. He jumped, twitched, and fidgeted at the smallest of noises. Something as simple as a door slamming automatically put Draco on edge lately. And he found that goosebumps were appearing on his arms more frequently. He knew what was causing his weariness, though. He could still feel the occasional burn of his paranoia on his left forearm.

Gripping the key tightly this time, Draco unlocked the door and slipped into the tower. He instantly felt more at ease. It wasn't the same sense of ease he used to feel before… But then again, nothing was, or ever would be, the same again. His life, his family, his friends, and certainly not his "feelings of ease." All changed by decisions he was forced to take. Sell your soul to the Dark Lord or have no soul to sell. At this point, Draco wasn't sure which was worse.

He took a calming breath, letting the oddly-comforting scent of dust and old star maps wash over him. He tried to push any negative thoughts of his current situation out of his head. He only wanted to focus on this city of stars above him tonight. So, he grabbed his favorite telescope- a vintage, floor standing Anchormaster in brass; which was dull and starting to fade- and set up at a window.

Once set up, he looked out into the night sky to see which constellations were visible. He scanned the sparkling sea and came across several constellations; Ara, Norma, Lupus, before finally settling his gaze upon his personal favorite: Scorpius. Amongst a sky full of complex names, stars, planets, and so forth; Scorpius remained simple. The J shaped constellations looked exactly like its own name. The star Antares appeared where the heart of the scorpion should be. Shaula and Lesath make up its venomous stinger. And that's it. It's that simple. Not nearly as complex as Aquarius or Ursa Major.

One day, Draco hoped to have a son named Scorpius. However, he knew better than to look that far into the future. Because, in all reality, he may not last that long.

Draco pulled away from the telescope and looked up into the sky with his own two, gleaming eyes. His skin really was glowing now, in the light of the moon. It was sort of a calming, mystical feeling; and for a moment he felt as though maybe the stars were shining just for him.

But of course not. At his point, a moment of complete solitude in this vast world would be too good to be true. Draco once again sighed and sunk to the ground, his back against the wall. He rested his head in his palms, grappling with the thoughts in his mind.

Suddenly, he heard the doorknob jiggling. Draco jumped up, startled, and frantically looked for a place to hide. He couldn't afford to be caught by a wandering professor. He set his sights on a large box full of old maps and dove behind it, hoping it would hide him well enough. He peered out from behind the maps to see which professor was coming to snoop around. Except, a professor never walked through that door. Instead, it was Granger.

Draco watched as this not-so bushy haired girl gingerly closed the door behind her, and his breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful in the moonlight. Her hair had calmed itself since their first year and her face had sorted itself out. She actually had become very pretty. But in the moonlight, her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed and she was beautiful. He only wished he could express that to her in public, rather than in private.

Draco watched as she noticed that there was a telescope and tripod still set up by a window. 'Shite,' he thought. Now she would know someone was here.

"Hello?" She called out. "Is anyone here?" Draco held his breath, desperate to not get caught or scare her off.

After watching for a few moments to make sure no one was there, Draco watched Hermione cross the room to the telescope and peer into it. For a moment, it was deafening silence. Just him and her and the stars. And he realized in that moment that Granger was more than just a smart-arse witch that he occasionally met up with in private. She meant much more to him than that.

Hermione started whistling a hauntingly beautiful tune that resonated within the tower. It was simple, like Scoripus. Draco liked simple things. He liked her. And he intended on letting his feelings be known to her soon. In private, that is. In public they much continue to despise each other. At least, until the impending war is over. Then they could start over. This could be the start of something new.

Draco watched as Hermione carefully, quietly took apart the telescope and tripod and returned them to their original places heading towards the door. She turned to glance around the room, always double checking herself, before leaving without a sound.

Draco finally came out of hiding and leaned against a wall, deep in thought. He could finally breathe again. The slow, aching throb in his left forearm brought him back into reality, though. He was foolish to think his life could start anew after the war.

It was just another dream that he would never be able to make true.


	3. Burn

**A/N: Another one-shot for you. This time it's in Hermione's point of view. Inspired by Burn from the hit musical Hamilton. I own neither Harry Potter nor Hamilton, unfortunately.**

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_Dear Malfoy,_

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

Hermione crumpled up yet another piece of parchment and threw it to the side, haphazardly. The disorganization and untidiness plagued the back of her mind, but she was trying her best not to care. She had more pressing issues on her mind. Like how to owl Draco Malfoy. She had been trying to write to him for days now, but she just could not figure out how to start a letter. Dear Draco sounded too friendly, Dear Malfoy sounded too cold, and Dear Mr. Malfoy reminded her of his father.

Although, considering her situation, something resembling his father seemed rather fitting at the moment.

Draco had returned to Hogwarts this year more moody and brooding than ever. Hermione had chalked it up to normal teenage hormones and the fact that his parents were, well, his parents. However, it wasn't until she caught him rummaging through the Room of Requirement that she truly got suspicious. As the year wore on, Draco became increasingly distant from Hermione, and eventually stopped spending time wither her altogether. All those years of sneaking around and false promises of love flushed straight down the drain. So, Hermione took to spying.

At any given day of the week, you could find Draco toying endlessly with the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. He skipped classes, free periods, quidditch events, even meals, and it was beginning to show. Draco Malfoy was wasting away, looked paler than ever, and had dark circles under his eyes, and hair that constantly fell limply into his eyes.

And then Hermione discovered why.

She finally got sick and tired of being ignored by Draco and confronted him about it in the Room of Requirement one day.

* * *

"_Draco." Her voice came out as a quiet croak, and she cursed herself for how weak she sounded. It didn't matter anyway, though, because he ignored her as per usual. She was done with being ignored, however, and approached the ghostly figure of whom she once called the love of her life._

"_Draco." She sounded more firm this time, but to no avail. Frustrated, she stormed over to him and grabbed him by his shoulder, almost recoiling at how bony it felt. _

"_Draco Malfoy, listen to me for Merlin's sake." She demanded._

_Draco finally turned around, and despite his pallor and dark circles, there was a fire in his eyes that Hermione had never seen before. Fire, and fear, and sadness. _

"_What, Hermione? What could possibly be so important that you come here day in and day out trying to gain my attention? Merlin, you're just as pathetic as I thought."_

"_You- you knew-" Hermione stammered. How could he have known? She was sure to be careful and stay quiet._

"_You're not as quiet as one might think Her-," Draco corrected himself, "Granger. Now tell me what it is that you want before I lose my patience." Draco crossed his arms and sneered at her._

_Hermione was shocked. Draco was never this harsh with her in private. In public, sure. They both had appearances to keep up, but he was never this was in private. And he hadn't called her Granger in private since first year._

"_I want to know why, Draco! I wasn't to know why you have cut everyone out of your life. Why you've cut me out of your life. Why you spend all of your time here with this stupid cabinet and why you look sicker and sicker every time I see you. Why are you so paranoid and why are you so cold. Why won't you talk to me? Damnit Draco, just talk to me!" Hermione's voice rose with every breath and she ended at a near-shout. She was out of breath and fighting back tears. All of her pent up emotions had exploded and she just wanted Draco to hold her again and tell her everything was going to be alright. But everything had changed this year, for reasons she didn't even know. However, she refused to let her self-cry. Not now. Not in front of this Draco._

_He almost laughed at her. "Grow up Granger. We aren't children anymore. There are more important matters in life than sneaking around with some pathetic swot and making false promises. I don't owe you any explanations. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work." Draco turned away._

_Hermione was hurt. He couldn't mean all of these things that he's said. Could he? She thought he loved her. So she grabbed his wrist to pull him back to her, hoping for one more embrace. "Draco, I-"_

"_Get your hands off of me," Draco looked Hermione dead in the eye, "you filthy mudblood, before you get me dirty and I have to take precious time out of my day to shower." Draco spit the words out at her and yanked his arm away. In doing so, she ripped the sleeve of his sweater. There, on Draco's left arm, she found the source of all his wrong doings._

_The silence was suffocating._

_Hermione felt like she had been stabbed. She had no words for this pathetic excuse for a human being. Instead, she turned and walked away. She didn't run, she didn't cry, she just walked away. _

"_Hermione, wait-" Draco turned to run after her._

"_Save it, Malfoy." Hermione didn't even bother to turn around as she exited the room, the door slamming behind her._

* * *

Hermione swiped away a tear that she caught rolling down her face as she relived her last encounter with Draco. She truly loved him and he broke her heart and now Dumbledore is dead. There was no doubt in Hermione mind that Draco had something to do with it. Some sort of initiation, she assumed.

Sighing, she finally sat down and pulled out yet another piece of parchment. Dipping her quill in ink, she wrote:

_Draco Malfoy,_

_I have thought long and hard about what to say to you. I saved everything you've ever given me, scanned through every letter, and relived every memory. From the moment I first met you, I knew you were mine._

_You said you loved me. You said forever. You said you were mine._

_I thought you were mine._

_So, I said I loved you. I said forever. I said you were mine. And I meant every word. But that's the difference between you and me. I'm genuine, and you just say what you can to serve what's in your best interest. I now know I was foolish, and you were just wasting my time._

_Do you know what Harry said when he saw your first letter arrive? Well, after lecturing me for hours about how "you are Draco Malfoy" and you're a "Cowardly Ferret" and a "muggle hater" and how you couldn't be trusted, he realized that my opinion would not be swayed. So he said:_

"_Be careful with that one, 'Mione, he'll do what it takes to survive."_

_I should have listened to him before._

_You see, every moment with you was a double edged sword that you ended up driving directly into my back. In private we could be together, but in public we had to hate each other. You claimed it was for the best, that it was to protect me, and I believed you. But now I'm not sure if this was for my good or yours?_

_You and your words, your actions flooded my sense. You sent my mind on overdrive every time I saw you, spoke to you, and touched you. The mystery and thrill of sneaking around was enough to keep me around, and I always took the insults we threw at each other as light hearted. Like an inside-joke. Except now, I believe I was at the wrong end of the inside jokes. Sometimes you words, your sentences in public would leave me feeling completely defenseless. Yet you could build me palaces and cathedrals out of your paragraphs that you sent me. But now we're here._

_So, I'm re-reading the letters you owl'd me. I'm searching, scanning, scourging for answers in every line for some sort of signal or sign or anything that could tell me this wasn't real. But I can't find anything. You hid yourself so well. You really fooled me, Malfoy._

_You took the mark and killed Dumbledore. You told the entire wizarding world how you pledged you allegiance to the Dark Lord. In clearing your name with you family, you have ruined our- you have ruined my life. Not only did you break me, but now everyone who knew about us ridicules me. All I receive are disdainful looks, "I told you so's", and accusations of sleeping with the enemy. Which, I suppose now is true._

_Do you know what Harry said when he found out what you'd done? He said that you were an Icarus who had flown too close to the sun._

_You and your obsession, your fixation with your legacy is so pretentious. Your actions border on senseless and you are always so damn paranoid of how everyone perceives you. You, you, you… Pompous Git._

_I'm erasing myself from this narrative. Let future historians wonder how one of the Golden Trio heroes reacted when an infamous teenage death eater broke her heart. You have torn it all apart. So now, I am watching everything you ever gave me burn. Because no one, not you, not Ron, not Harry, not anyone. So, in return, they don't get to know what I said, either. I'm burning my memories and all of the "sweet" letters that could have redeemed you in the future. Don't even think of using my letters, because I will deny, deny, dent. I'll claim you feigned it all. So don't you dare._

_You've forfeited any rights to me, to my heart, to my life._

_I hope you burn._

_Hermione Granger._

Hermione set down her quill and read over her letter again to ensure that there were no errors. Then, finally satisfied with her work, she charmed the letter to burn after Draco read it and sent it on its way. She was done wasting tears on Draco Malfoy.


End file.
